Magic and Mates
by WhoAtHeart
Summary: Peter and Stiles meet at a masquerade gala that Peter's family is hosting and Stiles is there to meet another, but can't find them. Peter follows Stiles out to the garden (not at all in a creepy way :P) so they can get to know one another.
1. Masquerade Mess

Stiles looked around the massive foyer as he entered the party, one arm crossed in front of him holding the other. He'd been invited by a guy he'd hit it off with at a club a week or so before. He knew that the other was rich as he'd sent Stiles an intricate black mask all the way from Venice and a designer red suit to wear for the occasion along with a note that read 'Find Me'. Now that he saw the sheer size of the gala his first instinct was to run, to run far away and completely block Oliver and this whole thing out of his mind. But with all the gifts he felt obligated to make some kind of effort so he walked further into the party, making his way into the ballroom. How Oliver expected Stiles to find him in this sea of people was beyond him, but he would try.

Stiles chatted rather uncomfortably with a few people, feeling exhausted after the first few, but then more people wanted to talk and asked him to dance and he again felt obligated to oblige. After three dances he needed some air and as he'd been twirled around the dance floor he'd seen a door that let to a balcony and down to a beautiful garden with fountains and fairy lights and he quickly made his way out there and sat on one of the benches near a fountain. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This had been a huge mistake, the sheer amount of people nearly causing him to spiral into a full blown panic attack. He stared at the running water and used some of his meditation techniques to calm himself down.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there staring at the calm flowing water of the fountain, but as he heard someone clear their throat close to him he realized that at some point his mask had been taken off. He was both hoping and hating the thought that the person may be Oliver. Stiles looked up and his breath caught in his chest as he saw a pair of piercing blue eyes staring at him from a simple grey mask.

"Do you mind if I have a seat?" the man asked quietly, "It's all a little bit loud in there for me."

Stiles nodded silently, the man seemed at least fifteen years older than him, but of what he could see, Stiles had never been so instantly attracted to someone since Lydia. "Crowds aren't really my thing," he said quietly.

The older man hummed his understanding as he took his own mask off, causing Stiles to gasp a little as he saw the full beauty of the man, just now taking in the expensive clothing and a little frown formed on his lips. A rich man had gotten him into this stupid mess and he wasn't sure it was something he'd ever want to risk again.

"My name is Peter," the other said in a gentle voice, as if he was trying to soothe a scared animal. And in fact, that wasn't far from the truth. Peter's eyes had been drawn to the beautiful boy from the moment he walked into the ballroom and the scent he got from him was just so... _right_. He'd heard him catch his breath and gasp and everything in him wanted to comfort and protect the boy.

Stiles licked his lips and bit his lower lip, sliding it out of his mouth slowly before he gave a tentative smile, "I'm Stiles," he introduced. He then forced himself to look back to the fountain to calm himself down again.

Peter smiled, Stiles, he loved the uniqueness of the boy's name. No one would have a mate of the same name, he would be just that special and all Peter's. Well, if he wanted that of course, Peter would never force him into anything. Even if Stiles wanted nothing to do with him Peter would still watch over him, keep him safe and cared for from a distance if necessary. Once a wolf found its mate there could never be another, even if they couldn't have them. "It is very good to meet you Stiles. If you don't mind me asking, what brought you here tonight?"

Stiles looked down and closed his eyes, his chest clenching up a little in pain. As much as he hated what had happened tonight, he still had a small hope that Oliver hadn't done this to be cruel. "A guy sent me the mask and suit and told me to find him. As soon as I walked in I felt like it was all a cruel joke. I didn't even know what he'd be wearing. How can anyone expect someone to find then in that mess. Either it was a mean prank or he was exceptionally full of himself," Stiles said, shaking his head a little. He had no idea what had brought him to tell this stranger so much, but somehow it just felt right.

Peter's lips pressed into a thin line and he had to suppress a growl, "Either way he's a jerk. No one deserves that sort of treatment." Especially not Peter's mate.

Stiles looked up at Peter, surprised by his words, he'd not expected empathy from a stranger, especially one that was clearly much wealthier than Stiles. "Yes, I suppose so," Stiles agreed. Stiles figured it was his turn to ask a question now, "How did you get dragged into this mess?" Stiles asked.

Peter smirked, glad that the boy was becoming more comfortable, "It's my family's gala. They host this party on Valentine's Day every year. If you ask me it's a bit extravagant for my tastes, but it's still family. I'd prefer to be on the couch in pj pants and watching tv. If I had someone I'd wish they were right by my side, comfortable and cuddling," he revealed.

Stiles blinked and looked between Peter and the mansion and back again, "Holy shit," he breathed. He was ready to pull away and leave right there and then until Peter described what he'd like to be doing instead. "How can you not have someone?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Peter was worried that he may lose Stiles already now that the boy knew how wealthy he and his family were. The boy looked just uncomfortable enough that Peter could tell he was really trying not to ruin his suit. He had the nature of someone that just barely got by. Peter wanted to change all that. He tipped his head at the question and shrugged, "I've had significant others here and there, but nothing felt right enough to be forever and as soon as I figure that out I can't keep them from finding someone that would want to be with them long term, even if that means that I'm alone."

Stiles looked at Peter somewhat suspiciously, he'd always helped his dad on cases when he was still alive and Stiles hadn't lost that investigative part of himself. He was trying to decide if Peter was being genuine or not, but everything told him that it was the full truth. "Altruism," he said softly, almost to himself.

"Common courtesy," Peter corrected gently.

Stiles snorted, "Common courtesy isn't really a thing people know anymore. It's nice to know that at least two people in the world do."

Peter smiled softly and reached out to brush his thumb along the top of Stiles' ear as if they knew each other well enough for casual touches and it wasn't until their skin touched that he realized his mistake. But when Stiles leaned into the touch he kept his hand in place, cupping Stiles' cheek as the boy closed his eyes and nuzzled his hand. "You deserve so much more," he breathed, "You deserve everything."


	2. FLASHBACK - Lost and Home

Once his dad died Stiles had nothing to hold him in Beacon Hills anymore he sold the house and most of his belongings aside from clothes, electronics, and some mementos of his father and mother. He used some of the money to buy a car that would actually take him wherever he wanted to go and then he just drove west. He had no place in mind, he just planned on making stops and trying to find a place that he felt he could settle in.

Stiles hadn't thought he'd end up on the the complete opposite coast of the country, but he'd stumbled upon Kensington, New York and something just felt right. A calm came over him as he walked around, just taking a stroll through some of the neighborhoods. Some residents came out to meet and talk with him, others were out in their gardens and greeted him happily and he felt he was home.

As with any community there were larger, more extravagant neighborhoods and some smaller, more quaint ones. Stiles found a small house that he could afford to buy himself and he settled in with what little he still had.

It didn't take him a full day to move in and he looked around at what little he had and a piece of him broke inside. He'd always had everything he needed, his father worked so hard to make sure that they never needed anything more. Sure, they didn't have a huge amount of time together, but they made the most of the time they did have. Especially there at the end.

When all of his friends went away to college, Stiles stayed in Beacon Hills to take care of his father, no longer having the support system he once had. They didn't detect the cancer until it was stage four and there was little that could be done. They only had three months to prepare to lose each other. The last week had been the hardest. They'd moved him to hospice care and they were simply helping his pain before he went. Stiles never left his father's bedside that week and towards the end his father didn't even know who he was.

Stiles shook off the memory and left his house, he was headed to a furniture store so he could decorate his home, finally being able to make his whole environment the way he wanted. Once he got only the necessary furniture and appliances he went to get paint and went to work right away. He wanted to take his mind off of everything so he didn't even sleep until he was done painting. He'd finished in the nick of time, his home's furnishings arriving the very next day.


	3. Broken Contact and Guarded Hearts

As Peter cupped his cheek and his thumb continued to stroke the shell of his ear, Stiles couldn't help but lean into the touch. He'd missed physical contact, only really having interacted with his neighbors and obviously that didn't involve touching like this. Even Oliver hadn't touched him this gently. Peter's touch felt comforting and that's what he'd needed more than anything since his dad had died.

He took a few deep breaths and pulled away from the touch slowly, if he didn't pull away now he wasn't sure he'd be able to ever, and relying on a stranger to ease his starvation for physical contact was a very bad idea indeed. He opened his eyes and stared into Peter's piercing blue eyes, his breath taken away again. "I can't," he breathed, "I can't rely on a stranger." But even as the words left his mouth they felt odd, wrong. He felt as if he could trust Peter with anything, with everything and that feeling just confused him more.

"I… I should go," Stiles breathed, standing and only taking one small step before he felt fingers wrap around his own. He looked back at the fingers, following them up the arm to look into Peter's eyes once more. He knew the grasp was something that would feel desperate and pleading under normal circumstances, but right now it was gentle and welcoming, beckoning even. His eyes followed the arm down and up a second time, "Why?" he breathed. So many words should have followed, but all he'd managed was the one.

Peter gave a small smile, "Because you're special. Because letting you go feels wrong and like I would regret it. Because I have everything and I want to share it all with you. Because you take my breath away."

Stiles shook his head as Peter spoke, no, none of that was true, none of that was possible, that wasn't the way his life worked.

"Please," Peter breathed, "One chance, that's all I ask. You can even pick the activity if you like. Or I'll come up with something. Just please," he pleaded. He needed Stiles to know that he would be nothing but kind and loving. That he was worthy of the boy's trust. That nothing of his demeanor and personality was false or done for show. That he didn't just want sex and then would throw the boy away. But he also needed to show the boy that the world wasn't always out to get him, that he deserved good things too. He just needed Stiles.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, trying to decide if he should agree to giving Peter one chance, but he kept going back to comment about preferring to cuddle on the couch than go out and that is what made up his mind. "Okay," he agreed, "But it's going to be two chances. I want you to give me the date you would want and then the date you think I'd want." He knew it wasn't exactly nice to test Peter like this, but he was protecting himself and he felt he had every right to do so.

Peter smiled when Stiles agreed and it grew when the boy decided to give him a test, it was wonderful to see that his mate knew how to protect himself, that if he was pulled into the craziness of Peter's life and the supernatural world, that he would have the instinct to be cautious.


	4. Getting Better Acquainted - Part 1

Peter nodded, but found that he had one condition as well, if Stiles would allow it. "That sounds fair to me," he agreed, "But may I ask one thing as well?"

Stiles was really trying here, really trying not to let the overwhelming feeling of home while he was with Peter cloud his judgment or sway him. "I suppose that's only fair," he agreed, somewhat hesitantly.

Peter could see the battle raging inside of his mate and all he wanted was to soothe that and every other bad emotion that Stiles had ever had and would ever have in the future. It physically hurt him to see the boy in so much distress, but it was even worse that Stiles probably thought he was hiding all of it. "I'd like to choose the order and not to tell you which date is which."

Stiles blinked, taken aback by the request, whatever he'd been expecting it was certainly not that. "Um, I guess that's fine," he agreed.

Peter was so glad, though he was having a hard time trying to differentiate between what he'd like and what his mate would like now. That's how it was for werewolves, as soon as they found their mate they lived to cater to their every need. Now, what made Stiles happy would make him happy. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't know what would suit his tastes alone, but he also didn't want to scare Stiles away by showering him with gifts and spending a small fortune on a single date. Besides, that would almost certainly give away which date was which. "Not to come across as rushing things or anything, but did you have days that you're free that we can plan our dates for?"

When Stiles had first come to New York he'd found an amazing art gallery and had seen a photography exhibition that had taken his breath away. He'd always loved taking photos, framing a shot and getting the lighting just right. He'd met the photographer without even knowing it and they talked for about an hour before the woman had said that the pictures were hers.

The more surprising thing however, was that she'd set up quite a few interviews for him at different places that were looking for fine art photographers and she was also funding his work for his first exhibition. He was so satisfied with taking freelance photos that were asked of him all while taking photos for his first showing. This also meant that he made his own schedule. "Um, well, I don't have a set schedule so I'm flexible," he replied.

He wasn't sure if making Peter completely guess what he'd like to do on a date without telling him at least a little bit more of himself was fair, but he figured that since the thought had crossed his mind he had his answer. So he sat back down on the bench and angled himself towards Peter a bit rather than straight at the fountain as he had been earlier.

Peter smiled as Stiles seated himself on the bench again, "Would tomorrow and the next night work?" he asked with a little laugh. It needed to seem like a joke, he couldn't show how desperate he was. Besides, there was no rule about him having to reveal to Stiles that he'd be watching from afar at all times from now on.

Stiles chuckled, blushing and looking away, "I wouldn't be opposed," he admitted. "Though we should probably get to know one another a little better. Would want you whisk me away only to murder me brutally and dump me on the side of the road."

"Oh," Peter scoffed, a chuckle in his voice, "Do you really think so low of me that that is the best you think I could do to hide your body?"

Stiles looked back at him and rolled his eyes, "Same dark sense of humor, check."

"I didn't realize I was living up to a checklist," Peter laughed.

"You're not, not at all," Stiles insisted, "No, I'm making a pro/con list," he corrected.

"Ah, well that is very different. I definitely prefer a good pro/con list myself."

"Alright, joking aside, I really do want to get to know you. Do you work?" he asked. It was totally fine if he lived off of his family money, but he wanted to know that going in.

"I do. I actually own a rather lucrative technology company. But I don't deal with the day to day much anymore. My nephew has wanted to take over that part since he first started graduate school so I finally relented. I never did like the west coast and silicon valley has so many pretentious assholes that I was glad to get away once Derek had finished school."

"You lived on the west coast?" Stiles asked, a bit shocked.

"Yeah, my parents moved me out there when I was fifteen because I was a bit of a troublemaker and they thought my older sister would be able to keep better reign on me. Of course, they were right, but if you ever tell anyone that you'll have to be silenced," he teased.

"I just moved from California," Stiles offered, he hoped that Peter wouldn't probe too far into that one, but it was information that was sort of called for at this point in the conversation.

"Oh? What a coincidence. Did you live there up until you came here?"

"Yes, my friends moved away and went to school and at the time I couldn't do that so I stayed and taught myself everything I would have getting the degree I wanted, but for free. But I thought it was time for a change, there wasn't much reason to stay with my whole support system gone. Then I was there seeing everywhere that we had spent time together and I thought it would be easier to be somewhere new since the lack of important people at home wouldn't change." Not lies, carefully worded truths.

Peter could see the pain on Stiles' face and left that alone for now. He could always ask later if things went well between them. "Well, sometimes we all need to move on from the familiar in order to progress. So, what did you teach yourself?" he asked curiously, only to see Stiles' face light up as he replied.

"Fine arts, particularly, fine art photography. I've always loved taking photos. It's capturing a single moment that can hold so much beauty or so much pain. And a lot of the time my view through my viewfinder was the only way that I could find a happy moment in my day. From there it sort of became my obsession. My entire room back home was covered in my photos almost like wallpaper. That's one thing I miss. I loved having my whole world through the best perspective surrounding me. Now I have to build up all those photos to coincide with my new world here."


	5. Getting Better Acquainted - Part 2

Peter smiled, well they certainly were opposites in that way, one left-brained and one right. "I'm pretty sure I don't have a creative bone in my body," he admitted before steering the conversation back to Stiles, "Did you bring none of your photos from your wall back home?" He hoped that wasn't the case, that there wasn't something so awful that it spoiled every good moment that he had in his life so far.

"I brought them, but I can't bear to look at them anymore. They're packed in a locked box if you can believe that. I need to move on and I think a clean slate is the best way to do that."

"Oh Stiles," Peter breathed before he could stop himself, only realizing his mistake when Stiles' open expression closed off completely.

"Don't pity me," he snapped. That was the last thing he needed, some patronizing rich guy taking on a charity case to make him feel good about himself. That was his snap judgement and he hated that it was his first thought. Peter had been nothing but nice and open and seemed like he truly cared. He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."

"It's alright Stiles, negative emotions don't scare me, if you ever have dinner with my family you'll understand why. And I would never pity you Stiles, you picked up and moved on when you needed to. You made that decision for you and that is so amazing. So many people would just stew in the misery." Peter decided to steer their conversation back to before it had gone wrong, "Do you have a new room picked out for the pictures you take here?"

Stiles centered himself and nodded, "I found a little house with a room that I can use for all my photography equipment. I left the walls white so I can add my own brand of wallpaper to all the walls," he said with a little smile.

"You bought a house? Wow, you're a bit young for a mortgage aren't you?" Peter teased.

"No mortgage, I bought it outright. I had a college fund that I never used and I sold my place in California of course. It's a really small house, but it's all mine."

To say Peter was surprised would be a huge understatement, despite all the hard knocks that Stiles had seemed to have had in his life he was still strong and wasn't going to let anything hold him back. "You are an incredibly impressive young man."

Stiles blushed, if Peter knew where the money came from he might not think so highly of him, but for now the praise felt nice. "Well, we've discussed my passion, what is yours? And if you say technology I'm going to hit you," he warned.

Peter chuckled, "I wasn't going to say technology. I volunteer a lot with my family's foundation and I really love that, but mostly I love riding horses. I have a few and own a small barn where people take lessons and board their horses. It definitely doesn't generate much income, but that's not the point, I just love being around horses."

"I've done a little horseback riding, but nothing major. Maybe you can give me some lessons. I don't know, maybe grooming horses would be a good relaxation technique."

"Relaxation technique? Do you have a lot of anxiety?"

"Yeah, I'm prone to panic attacks. It's why I came by the fountain, running water is soothing."

"Well that just makes that guy even more of a jerk. I've been talking to you for ten minutes and I already know that you don't like crowds. How could he not have gotten to know you at all?"

"He was more interested in talking about himself," Stiles admitted sheepishly, "I was tipsy by the time we started dancing and I was well past drunk after the drinks he bought me. I think I was just flattered that he gave me the time of day. Then he sent me this stuff so I felt like I had to come tonight."

"Too bad you can't sue or arrest someone for being a complete asshole."

"Why don't you think about it like this," Stiles reasoned, "If he wasn't a jerk we wouldn't have met."

Peter's heart hurt as he thought about how close he was to never finding his mate until Stiles walked into the party tonight and that very nearly hadn't happened. He was tempted to think The Fates had laid out this plan for them, but it very well could have been a fluke. "I suppose we owe him disdain rather than hatred then."

"My thoughts exactly."

Three words, not even the ones people so wished for, but three words nonetheless, was all it took for Peter's heart to soar. Stiles agreed that their meeting was a good thing and that was all Peter needed for his hope to skyrocket and for him to believe for the first time that he would play a large role in Stiles' life, not just watching from afar.

Peter opened his mouth to ask another question when he heard his name being called from a few feet away. His head snapped around to glare at his sister, now was not the time for interruption, but he hadn't explained his disappearance, no one knew what he did about Stiles so there was no reason for Talia not to come looking for him.

He looked back at Stiles and saw that he'd angled his body back to the fountain and was staring at it intently. He nearly growled and launched himself at his sister, but instead he said a quiet, "I'll be right back," to Stiles before walking over to his sister.

"Not the time," he whispered quietly.

"Oh? And why not?" Talia asked with a lilt in her voice.

"I think you can tell that I'm speaking to someone."

"Oh that young thing? Come on Peter, not even you are that creepy."

That got Peter really angry and he snarled, "I'm speaking to my mate."

Talia's eyes went wide and she looked between the boy and Peter a few times, noting how deflated the boy looked. A first conversation with a mate had to be special and handled carefully or the whole Mating could be for not. "I'm so sorry, but mom insists, it's time for the toast. Even a mate can't trump mom at a ball," she said solemnly.

Peter looked between Stiles and the mansion, knowing that Talia was right, the conversation was already ruined anyway. "I'll be right in," he promised before walking back over to Stiles and placing a gentle hand on his arm, "Will you wait here until the toast is over. I'll drive you home," he coaxed.

Stiles didn't turn from the fountain, he'd been in his own little safe world with Peter and it had all been shattered in an instant and he felt nothing less than crushed. He simply nodded as Peter asked him to stay, just barely holding back a couple tears caused by the swift fall back to Earth.


	6. Intruder

Stiles didn't know why he was wallowing. It was one simple conversation and it wasn't even that long. He'd just felt so safe, safer than he had since his father had died. He was holding himself together as best as he could, but his heart was held together with bandaids and sheer force of will at the moment.

It wasn't even five minutes after Peter left that a chill went down Stiles' spine, he immediately wend rigid, keeping his eyes on the water and definitely _not_ on the male that had just greeted him.

"I treated you," Oliver sneered, "I bought you an exquisite mask and suit and you didn't hold up your part of the deal. I will not allow you to embarrass me like that. You owe me and I will have repayment whether you give it or I have to rip it from you!"

Stiles' face was a mask of horror and his heart rate and breathing had increased. He was headed into a full blown panic attack and he had no idea how to stop it. "I...I tried," he breathed, the words barely audible.

"You tried," Oliver scoffed, "Well you damn well didn't try hard enough! And then I see you just sitting there talking to another man, you even agreed to multiple dates! You're _mine_ you brat! You're all mine and no one else can have you!"

"I'm sorry," Stiles whimpered, crying out in pain as his arm was gripped hard and he was pulled up and around so that he was standing eye to eye with the man he could only think of as a predator now. He flinched at the fury on the man's face, this was the last thing he'd wanted or expected. He had thought Oliver was nice at the club, but he was so wrong. Stiles yelped as he was backhanded. Tears were streaming down his face and his cheek stung something awful. He didn't know what to do, he felt so small and insignificant and...guilty. He should have tried harder, he should have realized what Oliver was, _something_. But no, he was here, being hurt by someone that he'd liked.

"I'm sorry, please, I'll do what you want. I promise, just...please, stop," Stiles whimpered. He would do anything if it meant he wouldn't be hurt more. His mind was too clouded by fear to realize that if he went with Oliver all he was going to get in the future was more pain and physical and mental harm.

A triumphant smirk grew on Oliver's lips. "You're damn right you'll do what I want. I'm going to make you my obedient little toy and you're going to hang on my every word you little bitch."

Stiles flinched at the words as if they were physical attacks. He wished Peter was here. He didn't know what to do, but Peter might. He'd stop this, Stiles knew he would.

Meanwhile, as Peter stood with his family on the steps in the main hall as his mother gave the night's toast his ears suddenly tuned into an altercation happening outside near where he'd left Stiles. There was an increased heartbeat and a cry of pain and then another and that was all it took. His champagne flute fell from his grasp and shattered on the marble step as he ran outside and to the fountain, snarling when he saw someone jerking Stiles away from the garden and towards the drive.

He put himself right in their path, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, voice cold as ice.

Stiles' head snapped up and his eyes locked on Peter's, hope bubbling up inside him.

"Taking what's mine," Oliver sneered.

"Clearly you are mistaken," the wolf reasoned, "Taking a person that does not want to be taken is called kidnapping. I assume you've heard the term."

Just the hint of a smile formed on Stiles' lips as he heard the clear condescension in Peter's voice, as if he was explaining something to a small child.

"Of course I've heard the fucking term, I paid for him and that makes him mine," Oliver snapped.

"Well, then I suppose we'll have to add soliciting to your charges. Pity, you're gaining sentences so quickly, you really ought to think that through."

"Shut the fuck up! No one asked you!"

"Perhaps not, though I'd very much like to get Stiles' take on the matter."

Both of their gazes turned to him and Stiles curled in on himself, but the worry in Peter's expression helped his voice to return to him, "P-Peter, help," he squeaked.

In a flash Oliver was on the ground and Stiles was held protectively in Peter's arms, he was being ushered to the drive again, but this time it was willingly. "Let's get you home, hmm?"

He nodded emphatically, home was all he wanted right now, home and safety. Once they reached the cars Stiles could see the woman from before leaning against one of the cars. "I'll drive," she murmured quietly.

Peter helped Stiles into the car and held him the whole way to Stiles' house. He walked him to the door, but when he went to leave Stiles grasped Peter's wrist tightly, "I don't want to be alone," he rasped.

Peter nodded, "Of course," he said, gently taking the keys from Stiles' trembling hand and unlocking the door, leading his mate inside and to the couch just inside, sitting with his arms around Stiles protectively, rocking him a bit and rubbing a hand up and down his back to soothe him.

Stiles had no idea how much time had passed before he mumbled, "Bed," happy when Peter carried him to bed and helped him take off the suit and tucked him in. Then he walked to the other side and sat on top of the covers, holding Stiles close until he drifted off to sleep.

Peter was concerned with Stiles thrashing in his sleep, gently waking him from each nightmare and holding him closer, hoping to make him feel more secure. It was a long night, but Peter didn't mind, he would always be there for his mate, no matter what was needed.


	7. Appropriate Adjustments

It was nearly noon by the time that Stiles woke. He stretched, surprised when his arm came into contact with someone else. He turned his head and couldn't help but smile as he saw that Peter was in his bed, but it slowly faded as he remembered why he'd not wanted to be alone last night. Instead of sitting up he simply rolled on his side and laid himself on Peter's chest.

Peter automatically started to run his fingers through Stiles' hair when he laid on top of him. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Stiles nodded, "Yeah, all thanks to you."

"I feel very protective of you Stiles. It would hurt so much if anything ever happened to you," Peter murmured, it was true even though he left out the reason why he felt that way.

"I feel safe with you. I trust you. I think our test dates are a little superfluous now though," Stiles laughed which in turn drew a laugh from Peter.

"I suppose you're right. But that doesn't mean I don't want to date you. I want to bring you on so many dates and adventures."

"That sounds wonderful," Stiles sighed wistfully, "You have to take advantage of each moment you have because it can slip away at a moment's notice."

Stiles sounded so sad that it broke Peter's heart. He was starting to line up different things that Stiles had said and come up with ideas of what had happened. "Stiles, I would spend every waking hour with you if I could."

Stiles' eyebrows pulled together, "But...why? I'm just...ordinary. I mean, you barely know me, how can you possibly know that you want me already?" The question was vulnerable because he felt the same way, but he just knew that this was temporary, he wouldn't be able to hold Peter's attention for long and he would have to accept that, but Peter saying things like this made it harder to protect his already shattered heart.

"I can just feel it. My parents always told me that from the moment they met they just knew they were meant for eachother. I never believed them until I met you. Stiles, I just know. It's you. But if you don't feel the same way I will respect your wishes."

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. His father had always said the same thing about his mom and him and Stiles felt it too. He'd been holding back hope, knowing that Peter wouldn't feel the same way, but now that he knew that he did… That changed everything. "I feel it too," he breathed, barely audible.

Peter's sharp hearing easily picked up on the boy's words and he couldn't hide his delight. He tipped Stiles' chin up and pressed a loving kiss to his mate's lips. It was their first kiss and it had to be special, but it also had to be controlled by Stiles. Peter was surprised when Stiles pushed himself up and deepened the kiss, taking his breath away.

It took all of Stiles' will to pull his lips away from Peter's, but he had to. He pulled back slowly and only so far as their lips weren't touching, staring into the man's eyes and beaming. God, he just felt so good, so right. "Do you want to see something?" Stiles whispered, "Something that I don't show many people?"

Peter was barely able to get his eyes under control before Stiles pulled back and started into them, thanking the moon that he had been able to. At the question Peter smiled and stroked Stiles' cheek with his thumb, "More than anything."

Stiles got out of bed, assuming that Peter would follow and walked into his photography room. He'd been working on his gallery show for a few months now and Peter was going to be the first to see his progress. He pulled out the large portfolio and placed it on the large table in the room, pulling out the photographs and arranging them on the table.

"This is what I have so far, but I want more than just landscapes, I just feel like these are...lacking something." He looked up at Peter, "What do you think?"

Peter examined the photos, the way Stiles used light and perspective was incredible, especially for someone that was untrained. But he agreed that the landscapes, though beautiful, needed another element. "They're absolutely breathtaking, but I agree. Have you ever thought about taking more...staged photos?" he asked.

"Staged?"

"Like if you wanted some floating balloons so you released some and just snapped shots. So you have an element you like and it looks random or by chance without it being that way?"

Stiles thought about that for a long time before nodding slowly, "I understand… Maybe they need a more human element too. I'm best at landscapes, but I feel like that's going the safe route. Maybe I need to push myself and turn to human subjects," he mused.

"That actually sounds amazing, with the way these look if you could take those traits and apply them to human models or whatever it would be absolutely stunning."

"Thank you, I was on the fence, I needed another opinion that I trusted, I figure sleeping in the same bed deserves trust," he teased. "Now the only issue is finding people that will let me do a photoshoot," he sighed.

"Use my family." Peter replied quickly. "My mother will do anything to be in a photo and the rest of my family is really nice, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help out. Plus there are three generations that live in the area so you have quite a lot of diversity."

Stiles blushed, "I don't know...I've never even met them. What if they hate me and walk out and I'm screwed?"

Peter laughed, "They'll love you because you make me happy. And Talia likes you already so if I can't get them to do it she can help me convince them."

Stiles thought about it for a long time, looking through the pictures he already had and liked them less and less by the second. He looked up at Peter, "Okay. Please ask."

A big grin pulled up Peter's lips, "Why don't I take you to meet them at dinner tonight and we can ask them then."

"Oh no, that place is just...so incredibly intimidating."

"Ah, well we can do it at my place or even have them here."

"Here is my safe place. Can we please do it at yours?"

"Of course, Stiles. Why don't you get dressed and I'll call Talia and Derek and have them bring my car so that we can go to my place and I can start cooking," he suggested.

Stiles nodded, "As long as I get to taste everything. You know, for quality control purposes."

Peter laughed, "Alright, it's a deal."


	8. Superiority and Inferiority

Stiles officially met Talia and Derek when they stopped by to drop off Peter's car. He blushed and was quiet, having to force himself not to hide behind Peter the whole time. It was when questions turned to what Stiles did that he could no longer hold out and he took a small step back and closer to Peter.

"He's actually a very gifted photographer," Peter answered easily and Stiles was more than happy to allow Peter to take the reigns on this one. "He actually has a gallery show that he's preparing for and is trying to find some models. I thought the two of you could help me convince the family at the dinner I'm hosting at my place tonight."

Talia nodded, "Of course, Peter, but I'm certain the moment the word photographer leaves your lips mom will be just begging for you to take photos Stiles."

Stiles cleared his throat, "I could be a shitty photographer," he pointed out.

Derek laughed, "Don't worry, if it's a photo so blurry you can't see who it is she'll still like it because she knows she's in it."

Peter reached back and brought Stiles to his side and not a little behind him, "You're gifted Stiles, you just need to believe in yourself."

"I never said I was a bad photographer, just that no one besides you knows if I am or not," he said with a tiny smile.

"Well, I suppose if we're going to convince the family we should know the truth," Talia reasoned teasingly.

Stiles found it a bit eerie when Derek finished her train of thought.

"Right, I insist you take a picture of us on your cell."

Stiles sighed and pulled out his phone. He liked actual cameras, the ones that required manual focus and zoom, but he wasn't about to show them a completed photo so he pulled up his camera app and moved here and there, trying to get the perfect shot.

"We can move," Talia offered.

"Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't," he replied, voice showing that he was deep into his work, so deep in fact that it was a miracle she'd gotten a response at all. When Stiles finally had the shot he wanted to take he pressed the screen and groaned when it made the shutter noise.

He walked back over to the group and handed Talia his phone. This photo was one of maybe three that were on his phone.

Derek looked over Talia's shoulder for a long moment before slowly looking at Stiles, "Where did you go to school?"

Stiles shrugged and shook his head, "I didn't. Just read a lot of books on the subject."

"You don't take pictures like this by reading books, you take them because you're trained or you just have a gift," Talia said with a smile. "The moment the others see this photo they'll be more than willing to help out and mom will probably hire you every chance she gets."

Stiles blushed again and tucked himself into Peter's side, "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

Once the two were gone Peter walked Stiles to the passenger side of his Audi R8 Spyder and opened the door for him. Stiles was almost scared that he'd scuff the leather or somehow damage the car. He looked up when Peter got in, "If I hurt your car will you hate me?"

Peter laughed, "No, don't worry about it. My sister got in here drunk wearing a dress with studs. I had to replace the seat."

As they drove into the heart of the city Stiles couldn't help but stare. Sure, he'd been to Times Square and Central Park, but he hadn't stayed long, the crowds and noise made him all panicky. But driving through it in a convertible was a whole other story. It was like just Peter and him even though there were thousands of other people there too. When Peter pulled into an underground parking garage Stiles' mouth popped open, "Are you kidding me?"

Peter looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, "What? Is something wrong?"

"You live five miles away from Times Square?"

"I do. But my building is mostly sound proof, you barely hear any of the noise."

"This has to be the most expensive place in all of New York that you could choose to live!"

"Stiles," Peter hushed, "It's okay. This doesn't make me any different than I was twelve hours ago."

"I know, but… I just realized exactly how inferior to you I am."

Peter reached over and stroked Stiles' cheek, "Income has nothing to do with how superior or inferior someone is. The soul and actions of a person decides that. You are so much more than you believe, trust me."

Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, "Alright, but if you live in the penthouse I'm leaving," he teased.

Peter made pained expression, "Please don't."

"Aw fuck, you do, don't you."

"I mean, I own the building so I made the top two floors into my home," he admitted.

Stiles closed his eyes, "Your money scares me," he admitted before looking at Peter, "But you, your personality, who you are is the most welcoming presence I have ever felt."

"I promise you, who I am will never change and if it does I will help you leave with as much as you could ever need."

 _I need you_ , Stiles thought, having no idea that he'd actually spoken the words aloud.

Peter gave a tiny smile and opened Stiles' door for him, leading him into the elevator and scanning his thumbprint so they would go up to the penthouse.

Stiles took two steps into Peter's apartment and stopped dead for a moment before walking quickly to the full glass wall, "I've never seen a better view," he breathed. He pulled out the camera that he always carried with him, it wasn't his best, but it was still a great camera.

He pushed one of the panes of glass and it turned to let him onto the balcony. He raised his camera and took many photographs from different angles and different places on the balcony. He was so lost that he didn't notice Peter until arms wrapped around him from behind.

"It'll look even better when the sun sets," he whispered in Stiles' ear, resting his chin on the boy's shoulder.


	9. Exploration

Stiles took a few breaths, relaxing in Peter's embrace, still lost in thoughts of photos he could take. "Will your family be here before then?"

"What?"

"They could all fit out here couldn't they? Or at least a group of them. I'd have to decide on the best size of the group. Maybe four or five? Doesn't have to be today. Better not actually. I don't have my good camera."

It didn't take long for Peter to realize what Stiles had been asking and that he wasn't expecting an answer. Peter couldn't help but smile, he liked that his mate had a tendency to speak his thoughts out loud, it would help him understand his thought process and how he's feeling. Plus it was really cute.

"What should I make for dinner?" Peter asked once Stiles' words and planning died down.

"What?" Stiles asked before realizing that he'd been spacing out while considering his photography plans. "Sorry, have you been talking long? I was sort of…"

"Lost in thought?" Peter finished for him.

"Yes, that. Sorry."

"You can get lost as much as you like, as long as it's in your thoughts rather than where you are," Peter teased. "No," he finally answered the question Stiles had asked, "It was the first thing I said. So, what would you like for dinner?"

"Um, I, uh, I don't really care. I'll eat anything really."

"What's your favorite?"

"Food is my favorite," Stiles admitted with a little blush. "It's like how some people are with movies or bands, I like it all so I can't pick a favorite. Except sushi or other shitty fancy things like that. No snails or liver or brains or anything like that. And most importantly, no pineapple on pizza," he rambled.

Peter couldn't help laughing, turning Stiles around and stroking his cheek, "For someone who isn't picky you are quite picky."

Stiles closed his eyes and shook his head, a small smile on his lips, "I prefer opinionated, not picky."

"Ah, I won't make that mistake again," Peter laughed before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Stiles' nose, causing the younger man to giggle.

"Okay, okay, enough playing around. You have to show me around and then we should probably start dinner. And by 'we' I obviously mean 'you'."

"So bossy," Peter said as he interlocked his fingers with Stiles and showed him around.

When they walked into the master suite Stiles walked over and jumped onto Peter's bed, laying flat on his back and smiling.

"You'll rumple the sheets," Peter tsked.

"You'll live."

"Well, why don't you just get completely under the covers and pull all of them off then."

"Don't think I won't."

Peter simply raised his eyebrows, daring Stiles to do it. Of course, he also really wanted his mate to do it so that he could sleep another night surrounded by Stiles' scent.

Stiles stared at him for a moment before getting himself under the covers, rolling and flailing around until the comforter, pillows and sheets were all on the floor. Then he laid down in the middle of the bed and spread out his arms and legs to each corner of the bed.

"What even size is this bed. You could fit like three king size beds on here! No wonder your bedroom and bathroom take up the entire top floor."

Peter had to close his eyes and get himself back together, willing his golden eyes, fangs and nails back, glad that his face hadn't started changing. Having his mate there in his own bed, spread out like he belonged there was almost more than his lust could take.

"I mean, who needs a bed this size? Do you have mega orgies on this thing? Because dude, I see no other reason for this."

Stiles' voice barely registered at first, but it got louder as he regained control, he just hoped he hadn't missed anything.

"I don't have orgies Stiles," he said with a shake of his head, "But having that much room for normal sex is quite a luxury. Mostly I just like being able to stretch out completely without touching any edges."

Stiles tipped his head and stared at Peter, expression sobering, "Did something happen?" he asked gently.

Peter chuckled and shook his head, "No, Stiles. It's just nice to have a lot of space. It may seem weird, but all growing up my family was prone to sharing beds, it was comforting to have someone else there. So I like to be able to do the same here. I have guest rooms, but usually if my family is here at least three of us are in my bed."

"Oh," Stiles murmured, thinking that through, "That's actually kind of nice. My parents were kind of strict about that, but their bed barely had enough room for them. But after mom… well, there were lots of nights where I couldn't sleep through my nightmares and I wished my dad hadn't decided to take up night shifts. I understand why he did, but I wish he hadn't. Scott and I had sleepovers a lot right after though and he would sleep with me when I had nightmares."

Stiles had been looking at his fidgeting hands as he'd spoken, but when he'd finished he clapped them together and took a deep breath. "Enough about that, let's go get food!" he said brightly, bouncing off the bed and passing Peter as he went to the kitchen.

Peter hated Stiles' sadness, but his heart broke when the boy forced himself back to his cheerful demeanor and headed out. Peter wanted to hold him and kiss him and try to take away some of that pain. He wished that he'd known Stiles all that time ago, he wished he had been able to be there where others weren't. And more than anything he wanted to know why the person that had helped Stiles through his mother's death, Scott, simply left him behind to deal with his father's sickness and death. Of course, Peter couldn't be certain that that was what had happened, but he was pretty sure that's where all the small dots Stiles had given him led to.


	10. A Warm Embrace For The Family's New Mate

When Peter walked into the kitchen Stiles was sitting on the counter next to the sink and the wolf had to smile. Stiles already seemed so comfortable and at home here and that made his heart swell with hope and love. He wanted to spend every moment with Stiles and perhaps inviting Stiles to live with him could happen sooner rather than later. He did have a room that Stiles could convert into a studio and darkroom. He'd seen more than one well loved film cameras and most of the photos he'd seen for the gallery show looked like they'd been developed rather than printed from a digital camera.

He walked over to Stiles and kissed his cheek, "If you won't give me a favorite food will you give me a favorite category?"

"Category?"

"Like Italian or Mexican. Something like that."

"Oh! Right, um, Italian I guess. There are just so many options there. All forms of pasta, pizza, breadsticks, tiramisu, panna cotta, cannoli, just yum."

Peter had to chuckle, "You really do like your food, don't you?"

"I told you I did. What I do like far outweighs what I don't."

"It seems so," Peter hummed as he walked over to the fridge and began to pull out ingredients for the meal. "How does ravioli, breadsticks, and tiramisu sound?"

"Perfect. It's weird that I like tiramisu but I can't stand the taste of coffee. Maybe that's just because I know I can't drink coffee…" he mused.

"Why can't you drink coffee?" Peter asked.

"ADHD plus coffee, not a good mix."

"Ah, that makes sense," Peter agreed.

Stiles kicked his legs a little as he watched Peter cook, their conversation easy and even the silences were comfortable. It wasn't until it reached 6:30 that Stiles started getting antsy and nervous, unable to stop playing with his fingers.

Peter walked over and placed a hand on Stiles' and wrapped him in a hug, "They're going to love you. Just be yourself and remember that they're just people."

"Aren't people supposed to actually be officially dating for awhile before they meet the parents," Stiles joked with a nervous laugh.

Peter looked him in the eye, "Stiles, it'll be okay, I promise. And if you get uncomfortable then you know where my room is and you can take a break."

Stiles settled a bit at the offer of an escape route if he needed it. He nodded, "Okay, okay." He took some deep breaths and calmed down a bit until the elevator opened. His anxiety level went up again, but only five people came in which was a huge relief. "I'm scared," he breathed.

"You'll be fine," Peter assured him again before walking over to greet his family. "He's shy and panicky. I need him," he murmured so that Stiles wouldn't hear.

"We'll be on our very best behavior," Peter's mother promised. "We all know the stakes are high tonight."

Peter nodded and ushered Stiles over, "Come on Stiles, I'd love to introduce everyone."

Stiles slowly slid off the counter and walked over to the small group. He gave a small smile and wave to Talia and Derek, glad that there were only three people to meet.

"Stiles, this is my mother Adelaide, my father Edward, and my niece, Derek's sister, Laura."

Stiles gave a nervous smile, "It's nice to meet you," he said, managing to sound somewhat normal, which he was proud of.

Adelaide held out her hand and Stiles shook it, "You can call me Adela, most people do. I'm so glad to meet you."

He shook hands with the other two and then Peter suggested that they sit in his living room and have drinks before dinner. After everyone had what they wanted Peter sat next to Stiles on the small loveseat.

They talked for a few minutes before the conversation came to what Stiles did. He'd hoped Peter would answer for him again, but the older man left him to answer this time around.

"Um, I'm a photographer, kind of. I've taken pictures for some magazines, but that's about it."

"He's just being modest," Derek spoke up, "He's quite gifted even with a cameraphone and is getting ready for a gallery show."

"Is he really?" Adela asked, even more interested in Peter's mate now. "That's wonderful! Any sort of artistic gift should be celebrated. Do you mind showing me a photo that you've taken?"

"I guess not," Stiles shrugged, getting up and grabbing his camera, looking through the pictures he'd taken out on Peter's balcony and showing one to her.

"Oh, Stiles, that's beautiful, you have quite a gift," she praised as the human sat back down next to Peter.

"Erm, thanks."

Now it was Talia's turn to speak up, "Yes, he's very good. But he's in need of some models for his gallery show. Peter thought that he could use our family as his models."

Edward smirked, "I think we all know that Addy wouldn't even think twice about that and I'm more than happy to help you out Stiles."

There were nods all around and Stiles was starting to feel more content and comfortable around the people in Peter's family, something that normally took weeks to happen had happened in the space of an hour. "Thank you so much. All the landscapes I'd taken seemed...not enough."

Peter smiled, feeling as Stiles relaxed more and more next to him as the conversation went on. It was then that the timer went off, "I think we should move to the table, Dinner is ready."

Dinner went off without a hitch and Stiles even hugged Peter's family goodbye, smiling the whole time. "They're amazing. You're so lucky to have them," he said, a tinge of sadness in his eyes as he remembered that he no longer had his parents around.

"I quite like them, though they do get on my nerves at times."

"That's what family is for."

"I suppose that's right."

"Well this has been a very long day," Stiles said with a small smile.

"I can take you home if you want. Or you can stay the night. Whichever you want."

Stiles chewed on the inside of his lip, he wanted to stay with Peter, but he didn't want to grow dependent on him. He didn't want to need him, but he was pretty sure that ship had sailed. His heart and head were at war, but his heart won this time, "I'd love to stay."


	11. Safe and Secure

Hey Guys! So so so sorry this took so long. I was in the hospital for a few weeks and then came home and immediately broke my ankle. Seriously, this could only ever happen to me. Anyway, I've been dealing with my leg for like 6 weeks and no writing juices have been flowing until now.

"Would you like to sleep in the guest room or with me?" Peter asked somewhat hesitantly, he'd love to hold Stiles as they slept again, but just having him close was good enough, especially since his bed was full of his mate's scent.

Stiles hummed, "Guest room please." It gave him a way to be close, but not so close that he started making bad decisions. When he was near Peter he had a hard time focusing and knowing the difference between what he should do and what the sudden safe feeling made him want to do. He didn't sleep around, in fact, he'd never even had sex, woman or man and he wasn't ready to do so yet. He was afraid that his connection with Peter would throw his better judgement out the window.

Peter nodded, he couldn't say that he wasn't disappointed, but he would respect Stiles' wishes always.

"Can I ask a favor?" Stiles asked.

"Of course."

"Can we go back to Times Square? I want to play with shutter speeds with all the lights."

"Sure. Do you mind if we walk? There isn't anywhere to park there really."

"Urm, sure," Stiles agreed. It wasn't the walk that scared him, it was the sheer number of people wandering all about.

"What's wrong?"

"Not a huge fan of crowds."

"Don't worry Stiles," Peter cooed, "I'll be right there by your side and as soon as you think you need to leave we will," he promised.

Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay, thank you." He grabbed his camera bag and then they made their way towards the hustle and bustle of Times Square.

As soon as they got to a place near the edge, but close enough that they could see most enough Stiles pulled out his camera, adjusting things here and there. He was happy that he could just zone out and take pictures and it helped that Peter kept a reassuring hand on his back.

And then the spell was broken as he was swiftly and gently pulled to back, his finger pressing down the shutter in his surprise. His heart rate skyrocketed and his breathing quickened. His panic attack was coming on fast and hard until strong arms wrapped around him and there was a low, reassuring voice in his ear.

"It's just me," Peter assured him, "I'm here, I've got you. You're safe with me," he promised.

Stiles took deep breaths and finally got himself under control before turning in Peter's arms and looked up at him, "What happened?"

"A group of idiot, drunk twenty year olds not paying attention as they nearly drove their car straight into us."

Stiles sighed and put his forehead against Peter's chest, "Well thank you for saving me."

"Any time," Peter chuckled.

"Let's go home. I think I've had all I can handle for tonight."

"I think that's a great idea." Peter took Stiles hand and they walked back to Peter's building.

Once they were safely inside the penthouse Peter asked Stiles a question, "How do you know what the pictures will look like if you haven't been able to see them and won't be able to until you develop them?"

"I guess I just trust myself and my camera and just hope for the best. Besides, if none of them turn out well then that's fine too. I'm not worried of taking a bad picture. Not everything turns out the way you want it to."

The sadness was there in Stiles' voice again and Peter couldn't stand not to ask anymore. He led Stiles over to the couch and loved the way his mate leaned against him.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure. As long as I can elect not to answer."

"What happened that spurred you to move from California?"

"What?"

"You said that all your friends left for college, but you couldn't. Why not."

Stiles blanched, not realizing that Peter would pick up on so much and remember it so well. "My… Well… My dad," he took a deep breath, "My dad had cancer and didn't have long so I stayed to spend as much time with him as I could." The words were rushed, but even so there were tears in Stiles' eyes.

Peter wrapped him up in a tight hug and stroked his back, "You're not alone anymore Stiles," he whispered, "It will never be the same, but you're not alone."

Stiles took a shuddering breath and clung onto Peter even tighter, "For now," he breathed.

"For always," Peter promised, "Even if we're just friends, you'll never lose me. And believe me, I have a huge family and they already like you. Plus mom will never let you stop taking her picture," he teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Stiles squeezed his eyes closed before pulling away and opening them again, "Really?" he asked as if it was something he'd never heard before.

"Of course, Stiles I like you very much, I felt it the moment we started talking, I'm not sure I could bear not having you in my life no matter what kind of relationship we might have."

Stiles nodded and gave a tiny smile, "I'm not sure I could bear to lose you either," he mumbled.

"Then we're in agreement," Peter said as if the words were set in stone. "Now, should we watch some movies before bed?"

"Sure, sounds fun."

Peter turned the tv on and pulled up Netflix, "What do you like to watch?"

Stiles blushed, "Documentaries, docudramas, and superhero movies."

"In that order?"

"In any order," Stiles chuckled.

Once they finally chose something to watch they cuddled up under the blanket Peter kept on the couch and watched in comfortable silence.

When the movie ended they talked about it as they looked for another, Peter loved how enthusiastic Stiles got about the documentary, something most people would find dull.

They made it through the second movie and did much they same thing as they looked for the third, but Stiles only made it through around fifteen minutes of it before falling fast asleep. Peter loved having his mate sleeping on him so he finished the movie before carrying Stiles into the guest room and tucking him in before retreating into his own room.


	12. Bad Dreams of Bad Times

Peter had barely fallen asleep when he heard and felt Stiles' panic, his rapid heartbeat and labored breathing, almost as if he were having a panic attack all while being fast asleep. From the first night they'd spent together he assumed this wasn't a rare occurrence and wasn't sure if he should just let Stiles sleep. But he bolted out of bed when he heard the screams, some forming words and others not.

"No! No, Allison! Stop! Don't hurt her!" Stiles cried out, punctuating the words with a loud scream. His nightmare of the night was the night that Allison had died, or been murdered rather. It had been one of the worst and weirdest nights of his life. He'd been watching his body kill her as if he were floating above the whole thing.

He'd never forgiven himself for hurting her and never will even if he wasn't consciously making the decisions to hurt her.

His group of friends had dealt with one or two odd things before that, but not many, he was just glad that his friends supported him the whole way, knowing that he would never hurt Allison if he could help it.

Suddenly he was back in his body and kneeling next to his friend with her blood on his hands and started shaking and crying uncontrollably. His catatonic state lasted for three months after that and he'd been placed in Eichen House until he returned to the world of the living as his friends said.

All those memories were jumbled up in his brain right now and creating one of his most horrifying recurring nightmares.

Peter made it down the stairs and into the guest room in less than ten seconds, his eyes shining gold as he quickly got into the bed and sat himself against the headboard and pulled Stiles into a warm embrace. His hold may have been a little too tight, but he wasn't thinking of that right now, he just needed Stiles awake and feeling safe.

"Stiles, Stiles!" he cried as he gently shook his mate awake.

With one last scream Stiles' eyes snapped open and he began struggling in Peter's hold. "No! No, get off me! I didn't mean it! It wasn't me!"

"Shhh, shhh, Stiles it's just me," Peter crooned, "It's Peter. You're safe Stiles, you're safe. You're not there, you're here with me."

It took too long for Stiles to start to settle for Peter's liking, but it was probably only ten seconds.

Stiles breathing was still ragged and he was still struggling, but not as strongly.

"Peter, safe, Peter, safe," he kept repeating over and over again as he slowly, but surely, relaxed. Finally, his body just gave up and he slumped against Peter. He blinked tears out of his eyes before glancing up and seeing that Peter was really the one there holding and rocking him.

"I-I'm sorry," he said in a hoarse voice, "I'm sorry."

Peter stroked his thumb along Stiles' cheek, stopping a tear in its track, "You have nothing to apologize for. It was a nightmare, no one can control a nightmare."

"I wish I could," Stiles murmured quietly, "I wish I could forget all of it." He looked down at his hands just to make sure that there was no blood there, but he still rung them together as if trying to clean the old blood off.

"Stiles?" Peter asked cautiously.

"Not yet," Stiles replied simply. He wasn't ready to tell Peter about it. Hell, he may never be ready to. What if Peter never wanted to see him again if Stiles told him the truth. He didn't know if he could deal with that and he wasn't itching to head back to a psych ward in another catatonic state.

Peter nodded and kissed another tear away, "Okay. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to."

"Thank you," Stiles said, taking shuddering breaths as his eyes welled up with tears again. He was about to start sobbing again, he just knew it. He really shouldn't have accepted the offer to stay over. He wouldn't be making that mistake again anytime soon.

"Shh, shh," Peter soothed, stroking Stiles' hair, "It's okay, I'm here, you just feel what you need to and let it out, I won't judge."

With that assurance Stiles broke out into deep shuddering sobs, clinging to Peter's arms as a lifeline, a way to ground himself in reality.

Peter just sat holding his mate, rocking him gently and resting his cheek on Stiles' head. He couldn't hold back his own tears and they silently fell from his eyes. He vowed that Stiles would never experience something that caused him this much pain ever again. He just prayed that he could keep his vow.

Stiles' tears dried up after an hour or so and he curled into Peter and just stared at the wall until the sun started shining through the windows. It felt wrong that the sun was so blinding today, he just wanted to crawl under a rock and forget the world for a day, or a year, but he couldn't do that again. He couldn't retreat so far into himself that he didn't even know how to get out again.

Peter stayed up with Stiles all night, just there as support and a calming influence. With as tightly as Stiles clung to him he figured that he was the best comfort available and he didn't mind, would never mind.

"I should go," Stiles croaked, finally breaking the silence.

"Stiles…"

"I just, I need to do the one thing that always makes me feel better and I can't do that here."

"Okay, I'll bring you home, but I'd like to stay with you today if that's alright."

Stiles took a deep breath before nodding, "Okay. Okay, I guess that's fine."

Peter didn't want to let Stiles out of his grasp let alone out of his sight so he was glad that Stiles had agreed, but the way he had said it caused him more worry than the crying. He sounded distant, but not in the way he did while taking photographs, that had the undertone of excitement. No, this was devoid of any emotion, cold even and he hated seeing his mate like this. So far from his normal happy-go-lucky self that he was nearly unrecognizable.


	13. Washed and Dried

A/N: I play a little fast and loose with the Teen Wolf mythology here, but I hope you guys don't mind too terribly much!

Peter kept glancing at Stiles as he drove him home, only seeing the back of his head since Stiles was looking out the side window. The car was eerily silent. Until now the silences had been natural, no awkwardness to them, but this was scary and he hated it.

Stiles could tell that Peter was worried about him, but he couldn't muster up enough energy to care. His mind kept going back to that horrible night and he couldn't shake off the memories so he was trying to distance himself from them as best he could.

He didn't say anything when they pulled into his driveway, he simply walked up to his door, unlocked it and left it open so Peter could follow him inside. He stood outside the door to his dark room and looked at Peter for the first time since he'd glanced up to confirm that it was actually Peter that was holding him the night before.

"Do you want to stay out here or come in and watch me develop some film?"

Peter blanched as he saw the haunted look in Stiles' eyes, but at least he seemed a little more comfortable now that they were back at his home. "I'd like to come in with you," he said.

Stiles nodded and unlocked the door and walked inside, holding the door for Peter and closing it behind him before flicking on the red light. He got everything he needed set up and opened one of the rolls of film that he had waiting inside. They were pictures for a magazine that he needed to hand in by the end of the week.

Peter watched in amazement as Stiles relaxed into his work, even seeing a small smile as he moved onto the second roll of film. This really was the one thing that calmed Stiles the most it seemed. But it was more than that, it seemed to clear the ghosts away too.

It had been silent for more than an hour when Stiles spoke up and Peter startled at the sudden voice.

"I killed one of my best friends," he murmured, "except it wasn't me. I was watching from above it all. Watching my hands drive a sword through her. I don't know how or why, but as soon as she dropped I was me again and I had her blood on my hands." He was wringing his hands again, trying to get the blood off.

Peter was stunned, it was an awful story, he felt so bad for his mate, but he didn't know how to comfort him or what to say, but it seemed he didn't need to as Stiles continued speaking.

"My dad was the sheriff and he was the first person that came when my friends and I called. They spun a story and cleaned me up and ushered me away. I wanted to tell the truth, but I wasn't able to. I retreated so far into myself that I couldn't find my way out. My dad and friends tried to take care of me, but eventually they put me into a psychiatric hospital."

Peter had to hold back a snarl, his support system had failed him. They'd given up on Stiles and he couldn't forgive that. "They sent you away?" he asked in a cold voice.

"They didn't have a choice. I tried to hurt myself and them. I was a danger and they couldn't monitor me every second like the people at Eichen House could."

Peter knew of Eichen House and the fact that Stiles had been there was even worse than his support system sending him away. No one should put someone in that barbaric facility by choice. But he had to put his anger aside, he needed to support Stiles like they hadn't. "But you got yourself back, that's what is important."

"I don't know how, one day I just snapped out of it. I still have the nightmares and the memories and the guilt, but it was like I blinked and somehow I understood where I was and that time had passed and I don't know."

Peter had a sneaking suspicion that there was something supernatural involved, but he didn't know exactly what or why it would pick Stiles of all people, someone with such a gentle soul. Of course, that just made him an easier target. "Had anything like that happened before?" he asked cautiously.

"I mean, we had a few weird things happen, but nothing like that. The weird thing was that it only happened to me and my group of friends," Stiles shrugged.

Peter would need to consult his family about that, but it wasn't uncommon for a wolf's mate to be a target of the supernatural if the wolf hadn't found them yet. "Why did they cover it up for you? Was it because your dad was sheriff?"

"No. They saw something in my eyes that made them believe I didn't choose to hurt Allison. Plus she was basically a sister to me in the way that Scott was my brother. They knew I would never hurt her."

"They saw something in your eyes?"

"After I got out of the hospital I had the same question. Why had they covered for me? They told me that my eyes were glowing sort of orange, like I had fire inside of them."

Peter's eyes went wide, when a Nogitsune invaded a host and the host fought back there would be a little glow in their eyes that showed the fight they were having. He swallowed his words though. He couldn't lie, brush it off as a curiosity, not when he had a very good suspicion of what it was. "I'm sorry that happened Stiles. But I can't help but wonder…" he let his words drop off, he shouldn't finish that question.

"Wonder if that was part of the reason that they didn't even consider staying with me while my father got even sicker and passed away? I wonder the same thing, but I'm too thankful to have had them in my life to sully the relationships we had by asking."

As Stiles hung up the last picture Peter walked over and looked at them, "These are wonderful."

"Thanks." He pointed to one, "You see how this one is sort of blurred? I used a long shutter time and turned in a slow circle in a grove of trees. It's one of my favorites. It should kind of be like the ones I took in Times Square."

Peter praised Stiles on all of the pictures, pointing things out that he liked in each picture, just glad that Stiles seemed to be his normal self again.


	14. Red, Black and White

_**TRIGGER WARNING: Cutting and slight eating disorder**_

"I'm sorry I frightened you," Stiles said as they left the dark room.

"You didn't-"

"Yes I did," Stiles cut in. "I always do. Especially if the person that finds me like that doesn't know the story. Sometimes I just slip away. Like the only thing inside of me is cold and dead. It's weird."

"Stiles, have you ever spoken to someone about this?"

"And have them lock me up again? No thank you. I'm quite happy not to be in a psych ward."

"I wouldn't let that happen."

Stiles' eyes snapped up to look at Peter, "Don't act stupid Peter, you know as well as I do that you wouldn't have a say in the matter."

Peter sighed, it was the unfortunate truth. He heard the quiet rumble in Stiles' stomach and realized that they hadn't had breakfast or lunch. "Would you like me to cook dinner? Or we could order in," he suggested.

"I'm starving, pizza?"

"Pizza it is," Peter agreed.

Stiles had ordered two pizzas and Peter knew why, Stiles had eaten an entire pizza by himself. Peter wondered if that was a pattern for his mate, starve and binge over and over. He really was pained that he hadn't found Stiles before his life had become so hard, maybe he could have prevented some of this pain.

Once they were finished eating Stiles popped up off the floor, where he seemed to be most comfortable, and headed back to the dark room, Peter close on his tail.

Stiles took down the completed pictures and arranged them in a file and put them in a large envelope, addressing it and leaving the room once more, "Drive me to the post office?" he asked, the first words since he'd gotten up.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Peter agreed. He was saddened that the Stiles he knew was missing again. "But Stiles, are you sure you're okay? You don't seem yourself."

"I'm great!" Stiles said with a happy smile, knowing exactly how to put on his normal persona. "Just concentrating on getting this to the magazine before the end of the week, I'm a bit behind unfortunately. You've been distracting me," he teased.

Peter smiled, there was nothing too off in the emotions he could feel so he believed that his Stiles was back. "I'm quite sorry, I just can't get enough of you."

Stiles giggled, "Well, too much of a good thing is still bad for you," he teased.

Once they were back at Stiles' house they stood at the door, but Stiles didn't unlock it. "I'm pretty tired after not sleeping last night. I think I'm just going to develop the Time Square photos and head to bed. I'll see you later in the week."

Peter frowned, he didn't want to push Stiles too quickly, but he also didn't want to leave him for a second, let alone a few days as he was suggesting. But Stiles needed to have time to adjust and he would allow him that, even though he was worried about his emotions. He would be right outside though, watching over his mate.

"Alright, I'll text you and we can get dinner or something," Peter suggested.

"No, I'll let you know when I'm free. I have some more deadlines to meet and I have to set up some times to take pictures with your family. I'll talk to your mom about that."

"Oh, okay, I'll talk to you later then."

Stiles smiled and nodded, but as Peter kissed him he pulled away quickly, "Goodnight," he said with a smile, finally unlocking his door and going inside. He flipped the deadbolt as soon as he was inside.

He pressed his back against the closed door and slid down so that he was sitting on the ground, hanging his head forward tiredly. Putting up a facade took a lot out of him. He sat there breathing deeply for a while before his hands couldn't bear to stay idle any longer.

He went into the bathroom and removed his long-sleeved shirt. He was glad that Peter hadn't seen any of the scars under the leather cuffs he always wore, only taking them off when he had a razor in his hand or was in the shower and he wasn't planning on taking a shower right now.

He removed the box of razor blades from under his sink and pulled one out, turning it over in his hands, the feel of the cool metal already soothing the itch inside of him that drove him to the bathroom in the first place. He pulled gauze and antibacterial ointment from the cabinet before he pulled out the black towels he always used and sat with his back against the closed and locked door.

Locking the door was a habit from when his dad was still alive, he didn't want anyone walking in even though he lived alone now.

He pulled off his leather cuffs and placed them on the towels on his lap.

He held up the small shiny blade before bringing it down and making the first cut on his right wrist, his head tipping back against the door as a relieved sigh escaped his lips. The pain of the slice and the simple act of drawing a sharp piece of metal along his skin made the emotions dim a bit and the itch inside of him lessened with each slice.

Three on one side and a matching three on the other. Then two on each side in the same fashion and then again with one. Six total and in the same pattern each time. That was the only way it felt right. The only way it felt complete.

Once it was done he wiped off the blade and dropped it onto the floor before rolling his wrists tightly in the towels to staunch the bleeding.

After a minute or so he unwrapped one wrist and ran a wet cloth across it to clean up the smeared blood a bit before applying the ointment and wrapping the gauze firmly around the wounds. He repeated the same steps on the other side before cleaning everything up and heading to bed.

He was clumsy and light-headed, but he managed and fell asleep quickly. Another advantage of his cutting was sleeping through the night without dreams.


	15. The Truth

Stiles slept late into the morning, feeling rested for the first time since the last time he had calmed himself through cutting. He allowed himself to wake up slowly and when he was ready he sat up and sighed. As soon as he was upright he checked the gauze on his wrists, happy to find that no blood had seeped through to the top layer of the bandages.

He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, he knew he probably hadn't cleaned all the blood away last night, but when he went in he saw no evidence of the night before, not even the towels that he had put in the laundry hamper or his shirt that had been left on the floor.

He went back into his bedroom to check if he'd inadvertently brought the towels and shirt in there in his slight daze, but he couldn't find them in there either. And now that he thought about it he had no recollection of taking his clothes off before getting into bed.

He was starting to panic a bit when Peter stepped into his room holding out a cup of tea for him. Stiles screamed and nearly jumped out of his skin before quickly hiding his arms behind his back. The thought that Peter must have cleaned up and undressed him and therefore had already seen the gauze didn't occur to him.

"Shh, Stiles, it's just me," Peter crooned.

"I- What- Why are you here? How are you here?"

Well, Peter hadn't quite figured out that detail yet. "I was worried so I came back. The lights were on, but you weren't answering the phone…" Yeah, that was as much as he could bullshit for now.

"So you broke in? That's creepy, not caring!" Stiles spit.

"I'm sorry Stiles, I truly am, but…" he trailed off and gestured to the arms that Stiles still held behind his back, "...but obviously I was right. Something was wrong."

Stiles grit his teeth and deliberately brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest. "This is what helps me stay sane." He narrowed his eyes as he saw Peter's expression, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not something to be pitied. You saw me yesterday, I was a shell of myself. But now? This morning I woke up happy and refreshed and ready to take on the world again."

"Stiles, there are other things, other ways, to deal with all of this."

"Oh? And from the three days we've known each other how much do you really know about 'all of this'."

Peter looked down and shook his head, "Obviously not enough," he murmured before looking back at Stiles, "But I'm here to listen. Stiles, you can tell me anything, everything. I won't leave and I won't pity you. I'll just be here for you whenever you need or want me."

Stiles sighed and turned around running his hands through his hair before grabbing on and pulling, doing his best to keep tears from falling down his cheeks. "You don't even know me," he rasped.

"I know enough," Peter assured, wavering over the idea of going over and hugging his Mate tight and never letting go.

"You know nothing!" Stiles snapped, keeping his back towards Peter, "Now get out," he growled.

Peter couldn't do that, he felt Stiles slipping through his fingers and he knew that if he left now he would never see his Mate again. Instead he walked over and wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles from behind.

Stiles gasped and trembled in Peter's arms before letting out a hiccupping sob and turning around to bury his face in Peter's chest. The sobs only lasted a couple minutes before Stiles sniffled and asked, "Why would you stay?"

Peter squeezed him tighter for a moment and kissed his head. Should he tell the truth or would that just frighten him away?"

"Stiles, I want to tell you, I really do, but I'm afraid telling the truth will drive you away forever and I couldn't bear that."

Stiles pulled away and wiped the tears off his face, "Tell me what?" he asked flatly.

"I can't be away from you Stiles, not now that I've finally found you. I- I'm not exactly human," he ventured.

"Not exactly? Then what are you _exactly_?"

"I'm a werewolf."

"A werewolf? Right, and I'm a merman."

Peter sighed, "Meaning you want me to prove it?"

"Yeah, prove it."

Peter closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and showing that they were shining gold.

Stiles stumbled back a step and tripped on something and before he could hit the ground Peter was suddenly there to cushion his fall.

"Werewolf," Stiles gasped in shock before a smile formed on his lips. "That's awesome!"

Peter blinked in surprise and his eyes returned to normal, "Awesome?" he echoed as he set Stiles back on his feet and stood as well.

"Yeah! Can you all turn into actual wolves? That would make for some incredible photos!"

And just like that Peter's Mate was back to himself and he wanted to jump with joy. "All of us? How did you know?"

"Well, what you said about all sleeping in the same bed and all, sounded like a pack, and what better pack than a family."

Peter couldn't help beaming with pride at how smart his Mate was. "You are very shrewd aren't you?" he laughed. "Only my mom can transform into a full wolf, she's the Alpha. And she's just beautiful when in that form. Stiles, there's something else I need to tell you though. The reason I'm so protective of you is that you're my Mate. That's a powerful thing."

"What does it mean, please tell me. Wait, let me get dressed and some food in me and we can talk about it all then."

"I'll make breakfast while you change. How about pancakes and sausage?"

"That sounds wonderful."

Stiles picked out clothes and went into his bathroom, closing and locking the door. He immediately unwrapped the gauze from his wrists and checked them, cleaning them with warm soapy water before putting on more ointment and wrapping them in fresh gauze.

Peter smelled fresh blood while he was cooking, hating that it was Stiles' blood and more so the reason it was there, but he wasn't going to say anything. It was obviously a touchy subject and it would all come in its own time.


	16. The Meaning of Mates

**Little bit of self-harm mentioned again in this chapter**

Stiles immediately jumped up onto the counter when he entered the kitchen, watching Peter finish breakfast. He kicked his legs gently as they ate, humming happily as he chewed his food like he always did when he enjoyed his food.

Once he was full he set his plate aside and looked at Peter, taking a deep breath before looking straight at Peter. "Okay, so, Mate, what does that mean?"

"Well, first and foremost, it means that you make me complete. There has always been a part of me that was missing and now that I have found you it would be like tearing a large part of me out if I were to lose you. And that doesn't have to mean we're romantic or even that we have to be friends, but I could never be completely without you even if that means I'm just in the wings of your life."

Stiles mulled that over, nodding reflexively as he thought. "So, is that why I feel such a strong connection to you?"

Peter smiled gently, "Yes. Not all Mates feel it to the same level, some feel it the same way the wolf does and others barely feel anything. And I won't lie to you, from now on making you happy will be what makes me happy. I felt your pain last night and I could smell the blood, it's the reason I came in, I needed to know that you were okay." Peter's eyes were watering as he remembered.

"I can't promise that I won't do it again. I'm sorry that it will hurt you, but I may not remember that when I need to do it again."

Peter nodded, "I don't want you to feel guilty for anything Stiles, that's not why I told you. You asked why I was here and that's why. But… you can talk to me Stiles, about anything. I won't leave, I'll never leave you."

"That is going to be hard for me."

"Which part?"

"Trusting someone enough to talk to them. I had that, I had everything. I was completely…" Stiles' voice trailed off. That was a lie. He'd never been complete. He thought he had been until thinking back on it just now. Until Peter confessed to having had a hole in his life. Stiles thought that it had been his mom, losing her that had left him feeling a little empty, but when he really thought about it there had been something missing his whole life even before his mother had died. Sure, each loss caused more of him to feel empty, but he realized now that he'd never been whole.

A tear slid down Stiles' cheek, "I wish I had known you before. Before my mom, before Allison, before my friends… before my dad. Maybe the missing part that had always been there would have kept the holes from tearing me apart completely."

Peter stepped closer to Stiles, running his fingers through his Mate's hair and kissing him on the forehead. "I wish that too Stiles, with every part of my being."

Stiles leaned forward, pressing himself against Peter and letting himself disappear into his warm embrace. He needed to lose himself a little and he trusted Peter to help him do so. He also trusted that Peter would help him find himself again when he was ready to.

After a few moments Peter lifted Stiles into his arms and carried him to the couch so they could cuddle somewhere more comfortable.

They sat in silence for a long time, Peter stroking Stiles' hair and Stiles luxuriating in the attention.

When Stiles was ready he pulled back and smiled at Peter, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me lose myself for a little while. For making me feel safe enough to lose myself in you rather than a razor blade."

Peter kissed Stiles' forehead, "You're welcome. I'm happy to let you do so whenever you want. I much prefer this option."

Stiles chuckled, "Honestly, so do I. The pain helps, it really does, but for some reason, so does your warm embrace and your smell enveloping me."

Peter tightened his hold on Stiles for a moment before loosening it again. He never wanted to be away from Stiles. He wanted to be right there every moment in case Stiles needed to lose himself again. Anything to stop him from hurting himself again.

Stiles leaned in and kissed Peter. The kiss was slow and languid and full of all of Stiles gratitude and love.

Peter returned Stiles' emotions with his own. Every ounce of his love and devotion went into the kiss.

When Stiles wrapped his arm around Peter's neck and pressed on his fresh wounds he made a small uncomfortable noise into the kiss that had Peter pulling away, gently holding both of Stiles' arms, cuts facing upwards so they didn't touch anything. He noted the fresh blood seeping through the bandage on the arm that had just bumped his neck. "May I?" he asked, nodding towards his arms unnecessarily.

Stiles chewed his lip for a long moment before giving a little nod, looking away as Peter removed the gauze wrappings on both arms. He didn't want to look at the wounds or Peter, feeling ashamed.

Peter examined the wounds and frowned as he saw other white scars covering Stiles' arms. "Stiles, these are pretty deep," he hummed quietly, "You really should get them looked at by a doctor."

Stiles immediately ripped his arms out of Peter's grasp, hiding them behind his back, "No." he said flatly.

"Why?"

"Because they'll lock me up in the psych ward for at least twenty-four hours and I can't stand to be locked away again for even an hour!"

Peter nodded, "Alright, no hospital then, but what if I had a friend of mine come take a look. He won't do anything except tend to the wounds. I promise."

Stiles thought about it for a long time before finally sighing and bringing his arms back out from behind his back, looking down at them and really looking at them for the first time. He had to admit that he'd gone a little deeper than he should have last night. Finally he gave a small nod, "Okay," he breathed.

It only took the doctor twenty minutes to arrive and he was very professional while he was there. He made light conversation as he looked over Stiles' arms. He numbed up his arms and stitched the cuts closed after washing them out very thoroughly. Once he was done he said, "I'll come back in a week to take the stitches out and see how the cuts are healing." And then he left.

"How do you know him?" Stiles asked once the doctor had driven away.

"Doctor Deaton? His family has been taking care of my family for a very long time. Not many doctors know about werewolves. With all the threats to us, both natural and supernatural, we need someone that always knows how to help or can figure out what is wrong quickly enough for one of us not to die. Mostly anyway."


End file.
